


Derby Day Blues

by katy15307



Series: Short Story Thingies [7]
Category: Oasis (Band)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-25
Updated: 2015-12-25
Packaged: 2018-05-09 09:24:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,442
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5534600
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/katy15307/pseuds/katy15307
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Holly goes to the footie alone and finds a friend to keep her company (May 1994)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Derby Day Blues

I went to find my seat. The stadium was already pretty busy, a lot of people were already in their seats so I kept having to ask to get past and everything. When I found it and got sat down I was surprised how well I could see the pitch, I should have known we’d got decent seats.  
“Hi.” I greeted the lad I was sat next to, we had to it together throughout the match so I thought it was best we talked.   
“Hey.” he turned to look at me. “You’ve not come on your own, have you, love?”  
He had warm brown eyes, dark brown hair (it reminded me of Paul McCartney’s from the early days) and an innocent smile. He was wearing a sky blue Man City shirt (like just about everyone else in this stand), blue jeans and white Adidas trainers. He had his footie scarf hanging on his neck like an untied tie.  
“My friend admitted she can’t go about fifteen minutes ago.” I told him.  
She woke up with a stomach bug and kept insisting she’d be better before we had to leave. I kept checking on her while I got ready but she kept being sick.  
“Never mind, eh? I’ll keep you company.” he said with a kind smile. “I’m Guigsy, I sometimes answer to Paul.”  
“I’m Holly.” We shook hands. “Christmas name, born in May.” I told just about everyone that fact when I met them.  
“That’s like my mate Noel.” he smiled. “It’s cute.”   
We kept chatting until Blue Moon was played over the speaker system, we and everyone around us stood up and sang. The players walked out the tunnel as the song came to an end, they got into their positions and kicked off.  
We chanted for City but united’s crowed was a lot bigger and louder than us. The chants weren’t exactly positive but it summed up our team well.  
“City yer shit, City yer shit… but I love ye anyway!” Guigsy chanted as he held his scarf above his head.  
I sat in my chair and smirked at his chants, without the last bit he’d probably get mobbed, some other lads copied him.  
“What?” he asked as he sat, noticing my face.   
“City yet shit?” I mocked him.  
He shrugged. “Well we are. We’re in 16th, they’re in fucking 1st, should be the other way round, never goin’ to fuckin’ be.”  
At least he was honest. “Y’never know, could win this.”  
On pitch we were dominating, we shouldn’t be but we just were. It was magic but my attention was decidedly elsewhere.  
“Sheron! Come on kid!” Guigsy started edging towards the edge of his seat. “Come on, lad. That’s it. In the net!”  
I looked at the net to see the ball being belted right into the back of the net. Schmeichel didn’t stand a chance. We jumped to our feet and cheered with everyone around us. We high fived before sitting down again.  
“Did you see that? That was fuckin’ epic.” Guigsy started rambling on about the goal, I tried to listen to his every word, his voice was so charming but I had to pay attention to the game.  
His commentary dramatically changed when Eric Cantona (the man who’d single handedly won United the league) ran straight for the goal, in possession. Guigsy put his hands together and loudly begged for something to happen.  
I did the same but under my breath. “Please, please miss, please. Don’t you fuckin’ dare go in.”  
We could barely stand to keep watching and then he slipped, he actually slipped.  
It had been raining on and off all day, of course and the grass was pretty wet. Even in May it won’t stop raining in Manchester.  
“Yeah! Fucking YES!” we cheered, we couldn't believe it, my heart was racing, his had to be too.  
United instantly lost possession and City were on the counter attack.  
“French Twat!” Guigsy shouted before letting out a big sigh of relief.  
Suddenly we were holding our breaths in anticipation for Sheron’s second. He volleyed the ball from some distance but United’s defence weren’t totally crap. They cleared it but put it at Quinn’s feet. He striked.  
We weren’t sure, couldn’t tell if it had gone over the line or Schmeichel had saved it. The ref decided it wasn’t.  
“You Red scum! That was in!” Gugsy didn’t agree.  
The game played on and Guigsy started to get frustrated I did too, we were winning but it wasn’t enough.  
“This is shite.” Guigsy announced as he looked to the floor, completely taking his eye off the game.  
He didn’t see Quinn’s miracle volley from 45 yards out but I did.   
I nudged him, more punched him in excitement and dragged him to his feet. He went to hug me and I misjudged, going in for a kiss. The adrenaline had led me on.  
“D’you kiss all your friends like that?” he smirked as we sat back down.  
I blushed and said sorry. I couldn’t believe I’d done it.  
“No, it was nice. Bit much like a ‘eadbutt though.”   
“Sorry.” I apologise again. “We’re winning against United, man.” I excused.  
“I know…” He knew the score but he was having a hard time believing it was real too. “Would you kiss your mate if she was here?”  
I’d forgotten all about her. “Probably not, no.” I admitted, embarrassed.  
As half time grew close Ryan Giggs scored. We were still two goals up but it felt like we’d lost.  
We watched the players file back into the dressing rooms before Guigsy stood up. “Need a drink, you comin?”  
I followed him. “D’you reckon there’ll be any celebrities knocking around?”  
“Probably…” he shrugged. “On United’s side, but who’d wanna meet a Red Manc?”   
The queue was massive, we shouldn’t have sat around. He stopped, dead. “I’m not waitin’ in that.”   
“What d’we do ‘til second ‘alf then?” I asked.   
He grabbed my hand and somehow we ended up sneaking into an interview room, one of those sponsor board ones, they make the sweaty, out of breath players talk in when all they want to to is keel over and get some serious rest.  
“So, Holly what d’ye think of City’s performance?” he pretended to interview me as he pushed me against the board.  
“Well, er, we went out there, er, and we scored. If we carry on, er, we’ll win the league.” I stuttered like footballers did but because my heart was racing again as well as playing the role.  
He pressed his body right close to ours so there was only our City shirts between us and kissed me. This time it wasn’t a near headbutt. It was passionate.  
“We ‘ave t’ get back!” I eventually pushed him away, I wasn’t rejecting him but we couldn’t miss the second half when we were 2-1 to United.  
The second half saw United step up their game, they were this seasons winners and they weren’t going to let their home rivals ruin the last game of the season.  
We were sat terrified that our lead would be gone and go on to slaughter us, we couldn’t bare to see our season end like that. We were praying to anyone who’d listen.  
And then it happened, City’s final 1993-94 miracle. United’s new kid in defense Gary Neville went to clear a shot (Sheron’s again) and somehow managed to get it straight into the back of his own net.  
“It’s in! He’s scored an own goal!” I cheered. “What a fucking idiot?!”   
Guigsy laughed at me or maybe he was laughing at the kid getting the telling off of his life from the goalkeeper.  
Seeing City win this match was euphoric, even more so sharing the experience with Guigsy. When the final whistle went we couldn’t believe it was over. We couldn’t believe any of it, it was too perfect. I couldn’t wait to tell Tara, she was going to be gutted she missed that.  
“Can I ‘ave your number?” Guigsy asked as soon as the chanting and cheering had died down enough to hear each other.  
I found a pen and paper in my bag and scribbled it down. I thought he was just asking to be nice so I didn’t think he would actually give it another thought.  
We parted ways and I walked home as quick as I could since the rain was picking up again, luckily for me, my flat was only around the corner. Tara wasn’t going to believe I’d met someone as much as she wouldn’t believe the score but I was going to tell her anyway.


End file.
